"Arden, Arden, we've arrived," Ava whispered gently, nudging him out of his reverie. "Huh? Oh, where are we?" Arden responded, his attention snapping back to the present. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts, and the curious stone and pouch in his hands, that he hadn't noticed their arrival.
Ava chuckled, gesturing at the items he was holding. "You've become so adept at riding that you don't even need to pay attention anymore," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She knew well enough that the horse Arden rode was old and docile, content to follow the others without needing guidance.
As Arden looked up, he observed the old inn standing before them, nestled along the winding road. The familiar sight of a wall encircled the property. He had noted that most villages and farms they passed were similarly fortified, a wall or in some cases a sturdy fence, an architectural response to frequent monster attacks. Ava had mentioned this nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. What intrigued Arden about this particular inn was its dual function as a leather craftsmanship shop.
This discovery reignited a flicker of hope in Arden. Perhaps here, he could find some answers to the questions that had been gnawing at him. He glanced down at the stone and pouch in his hands. Over the past few days, he had repeatedly applied complex runes to them, now worn with familiarity. He had successfully created a pocket dimension within both the stone and the pouch. The runes were etched directly into their surfaces by his mana, a technique he had been refining.
However, challenges remained. The runes on the stone tended to fade quickly, causing the contents of the pocket dimension to spill out. The longest he had managed to maintain the runes was a few hours. He could sense the spell beginning to weaken already. The leather of the pouch, on the other hand, held the runes more consistently, but any wrinkle or imperfection in the material caused the spell to fail instantly.
"Arden," he heard Ava say, a bit more forcefully this time.
"Yes, sorry," he mumbled, hastily stowing his magical items away and dismounting the horse. He noticed Selene and Brynja already waiting for them by the inn's entrance. He was somewhat relieved that only two of Selene's band had come to ‘escort’ them to lord Chandler. Their excessively polite and protective demeanor had been grating on his nerves. The revelation of Ava's status as a Citizen had initially shocked them, but upon learning that he was a Steward, their behavior had shifted from merely friendly to almost overly courteous.
As Arden approached the door, he reflected on the developments of the past two days. Divinarian Bailey and Lila had opted to continue with the caravan towards his temple, dealing with their own pressing matters. The revelation that Ava didn't require rescuing, coupled with her willingness to meet Lord Chandler, had led Selene to offer the support of the Moonlight Sisters to accompany their journey. Arden couldn't help but suspect that their readiness was partly due to the injuries sustained by several sisters, and the Church of Enlightenment, known for its exorbitant fees, boasted the most skilled healers. The decision seemed pragmatic, if not entirely altruistic.
Now, with only a day’s journey left, they were on the cusp of resolving the matter between Ava and Chandler. After that, Selene could claim their bounty. It all seemed straightforward – easy peasy, as they say. Yet, in the back of his mind, Arden couldn't shake off a niggling feeling that things might not be as simple as they appeared.
As Arden stepped into the inn, he was immediately struck by the blend of traditional medieval architecture with an array of advanced, subtly integrated technologies. The common room, anchored by a large fireplace that had burned down to mere embers, exuded a quaint, old-world charm. Yet, something about the way the stew bubbled over the low fire, seemingly unaffected by the lack of flames, hinted at unseen, advanced mechanisms at play.
Behind the counter, a man stood, his posture suggesting he was equally comfortable serving drinks as he was managing a shop. The counter itself served a dual purpose – a traditional bar on one side and a display for various gadgets and leather goods on the other. It was a curious blend of the old and the new, a characteristic that seemed to define the entire establishment.
Arden’s gaze wandered to two distinct rooms visible from the main hall. To the front, he could see what appeared to be a leather shop, its walls adorned with beautifully crafted leather goods that bore both classic and futuristic designs. In the back, the bustling kitchen was visible, with its modern appliances seamlessly integrated into the rustic decor.
At one of the tables, two youngsters sat in an oddly formal manner. Both of their ales remained untouched, creating an aura of expectancy around them. Their eyes were fixed on something beyond the immediate surroundings, their expressions a mix of anticipation and nervousness.
The inn was a harmonious juxtaposition, where historical ambiance met the edge of technological advancement. Arden felt as though he had stepped into a threshold between times, a place where past and future coalesced into a unique present. The ambiance was anachronistic yet harmonious, creating a space that was both familiar and intriguingly foreign.
"We'll take two rooms and whatever's cooking over the fire," Selene announced, her voice carrying a confident timbre.
The innkeeper's response came with an unsteady edge. "We're full," he said, his gaze flickering nervously towards the two boys at the table.
Had Arden not caught the subtle glance exchanged between Selene and Brynja, he might have missed the tension simmering beneath the surface. Brynja, with a feigned casualness that belied her true intent, moved towards the fireplace. Her attempts to stoke the dying flames were methodical, each motion deliberate. In the world of mercenaries, nothing was ever truly casual.
"That's unfortunate. We'll settle for just the food, then," Selene replied, undeterred.
"I’m out of food," the innkeeper stammered, his voice thin with anxiety.
Selene arched an eyebrow, her suspicion growing. "Really? I could swear I smelled something cooking." She began to walk towards Brynja, her steps measured and purposeful.
"No, it's not ready," the man blurted out, a note of panic creeping into his voice.
In a flash, the room's dynamic transformed. Selene's boot caught on the leg of a wooden chair, sending it clattering across the floorboards. The sudden noise sliced through the tense silence, drawing the attention of the two boys. Their heads snapped towards the sound, eyes widening in surprise.
As they began to stand, their movements hesitant and cautious, a looming shadow enveloped them from behind. Brynja, moving with a grace that belied her imposing stature, closed in silently like a predator stalking its prey. Her large hands gripped the handles of two axes, the blades glinting dimly in the firelight.
With a precision and swiftness that seemed impossible for her size, she positioned the axes at their throats. The cold steel pressed against their skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the inn. The boys froze, their movements arrested mid-rise, their bodies rigid with the shock of being overpowered so quickly.
Brynja's axes were mere whispers from their necks, yet they were unmistakably present — a silent, deadly threat that forced the youngsters back into their chairs. The threat was clear: any further movement would have dire consequences. The entire exchange occurred in mere moments, yet it spoke volumes of Brynja's skill and the seriousness of the situation unfolding.
"Are you sure we can't have some?" Selene asked the innkeeper, her tone sweet but laced with a dangerous undertone.
"No, sorry, it's really not ready," he replied, his demeanor now visibly altered. Subtly, he nodded towards the kitchen, a silent message that there was more to this situation than met the eye.
Selene exchanged a questioning glance with Arden, her eyes narrowing as she subtly gestured towards the kitchen. The dim lighting cast elongated shadows across Arden's face, mirroring the growing tension in the room. Arden, his mind racing, signaled her to wait, a silent understanding passing between them.
Sending a mental query to Ava, he asked, “How many can you sense in there?” They had been honing their [Mana Sight] skill, a challenging endeavor to extend their perception beyond the visible. Though the ability to see through walls was still a work in progress, every bit of information was crucial.
Ava's mental response carried a hint of apprehension. “There's a presence... more than one,” she replied. Arden could almost feel the concentration in her thoughts. “I concur. Can you play the spoiled child and storm into the kitchen? Try to subdue one if you can reach them. I'll follow right behind.”
Ava shot Arden a stern look, disliking the idea of using her mental skills so openly, but with a barely perceptible nod, Ava took on the role of the irate customer. “You promised me food!” Her voice, loud and petulant, reverberated through the inn, drawing startled glances. “I won’t leave until I've eaten!”
As Ava stormed into the kitchen, the air was thick with the aroma of fresh bread and simmering stew, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of danger. Two men and a woman, their expressions a mix of surprise and wariness, stood frozen for a moment. “Finally, some luck,” she murmured and moved forward.
“Hey, stop right there!” the larger man barked, his hand tightening around the hilt of a short sword. The metallic glint of the blade caught the flickering firelight as he stepped forward.
Ava feigned innocence, her eyes wide. “I just want some bread, I’ll pay!” Her hand reached out, the motion deliberate and calculated.
The man's grip on her was swift and firm. “I said no. Now you’ve done it.”
Ava’s smile was quick and sly. “Wrong move.” The words were barely a whisper, but their impact was immediate. With a surge of mental energy, she unleashed a torrent of chaotic images directly into his mind. The man’s eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, rendered unconscious by the force of her [Advanced Telepathy].
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Selene was right on Ava's heels as she entered the kitchen. Her gaze swiftly took in the scene, but any surprise at Ava's display was masked by her focused demeanor. She turned her attention to the last man, who, upon closer inspection, appeared more a boy than a man. Sword in hand, she commanded firmly, "Let her go."
The shock on the boy's face was palpable, his eyes wide with a childlike bewilderment. "What did you do to Papa?" he stammered, releasing the woman and rushing to his father's side, his focus entirely on the fallen man, oblivious to Selene's presence.
Selene, momentarily taken aback, quickly regained her composure. "Are you okay?" she asked the woman, who nodded in response. "Yes, thank you," she replied, still shaken.
"Hey, boy!" Selene called out, trying to grasp the situation. "What's all this about?"
The boy, cradling his father's head in his lap, seemed lost in his own world, repeating in a daze, "Papa, Papa."
Turning to the woman, Selene sought answers. "Can you tell me what's going on here?"
"They're the Haywood family, have a farm nearby. Not the brightest folks, but this... this is just foolish," the woman explained, a mix of bewilderment and frustration in her voice.
"What did they want?" Arden asked, having followed Selene into the kitchen.
"Mana," the woman replied tersely. "Like everyone else these days."
Arden furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"
The woman sighed, a weariness in her eyes. "The Lord. He's demanding double the usual amount of mana from everyone."
"Let's gather everyone in the common room," Selene proposed, her voice firm yet considerate. The chaotic energy of the kitchen needed to be reined in, and a more controlled environment was necessary for piecing together the story.
Carefully, the four of them - Selene, Arden, Ava, and the woman from the kitchen - began the task of moving both the Haywood boy and his unconscious father to the main hall. The process proved to be more challenging than anticipated, largely due to the boy's distraught state. He was clearly overwhelmed with worry, his movements erratic and unfocused as he clung to his father, making it difficult to transport them smoothly.
Selene took the lead, her experience in handling tense situations evident in her calm yet authoritative approach. Arden and Ava assisted with gentle efficiency, mindful of the boy's emotional turmoil. The woman from the kitchen, still shaken by the events, lent a helping hand, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and confusion.
As they settled the father and son into a pair of chairs by the now-rekindled fireplace, the warmth of the flames seemed to do little to ease the boy's distress. His eyes were fixed on his father's face, his hands trembling as he held onto him.
"Thank you for handling the... situation," the innkeeper began, his voice tinged with relief. "I'm Jorin, the innkeeper here. What happened with the Haywoods... it's a symptom of a bigger problem we're all facing."
Selene nodded, prompting him to continue. "You see, the Haywoods' act was born of desperation. The Lord has imposed a new tax – an exorbitant amount of mana required from each household. And they're not the only ones struggling. Even I barely have enough mana to meet this new tax."
Jorin's brow furrowed as he speculated further. "Something's amiss, likely in the capital. The sudden hike in mana taxes doesn't make sense otherwise."
Jorin sighed, a contemplative look crossing his face. "Your intervention probably saved lives today. As for repayment..." He paused, his gaze drifting towards the dimly lit corners of the inn.
Arden exchanged a glance with his companions, sensing an opportunity. "What would you like us to do with the Haywoods, Jorin?" he inquired.
Jorin nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of appreciation and concern. "Let them go. They won't cause trouble here again; I'll make sure of it. And thank you. If there's anything you need during your stay, just ask."
Arden's interest was piqued, particularly since he had noticed the leather craftsmanship shop. "Actually, there is something," he began. "Do you handle the enchantments on your leatherwork yourself?"
Jorin's chest puffed with pride as he answered, "Yes, I do. Are you looking to have something enchanted? I'd be more than happy to assist." A flicker of eagerness shone in his eyes, momentarily overshadowing the recent disturbance.
Arden shook his head. "It's not quite that. I was wondering if you could teach me?"
The innkeeper's enthusiasm visibly waned. "Sorry, no. I can't divulge my runes – they're my livelihood, after all. I’m sure you understand."
Arden quickly clarified, "Oh, I don't need to see your runes. I'm more interested in techniques to make them last longer. I assure you, it will be worth your time."
Jorin's demeanor shifted again, his interest reignited. "Well, in that case, yes! I also make rune etchers and would be glad to sell you one. Of course, I'll show you how to use it too." His tone was buoyant, the earlier incident with the Haywoods seemingly pushed to the back of his mind. "Come, follow me to the shop, and I'll show you my selection," he said, leading the way with renewed purpose.
Jorin led Arden to a small display in the leather craftsmanship shop, unveiling a modest selection of unique tools. At first glance, they bore a resemblance to wands, but Arden quickly realized they were a different breed altogether. Each tool resembled a bulky, intricately carved wooden pen, adorned with ornate patterns and symbols suggesting magical properties. A slender metallic tube ran straight through the core of each rune etcher, its surface shimmering in the dim light of the shop.
The metal, a blend of silver and an unidentified alloy, radiated a faint, enigmatic glow. Tiny runes, etched with delicate precision along the tube, emitted a soft luminescence. The wood was polished to perfection, smooth and almost warm to the touch. Yet, for all their aesthetic appeal, Arden couldn't help but feel these rune etchers lacked the finesse needed for truly intricate work. The tips, where the metal extended to form a point, seemed more suited for broader strokes than fine detailing.
Jorin, cradling one of the wands in his hands, beamed with pride. "These rune etchers are my own design," he said. "They are crafted for stability and control, enhancing the potency and durability of the enchantments."
Arden weighed the rune etcher in his hand, acknowledging the craftsmanship but also recognizing its limitations for his precise work. As he pondered, Jorin observed him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you planning to craft?" Jorin inquired, his tone betraying a hint of worry about potential competition.
Arden decided to keep his response vague. "I've been experimenting with enhancing one of my saddlebags, trying to strengthen it. But the effects of the runes only last a few hours," he explained, careful not to reveal his true intentions.
Jorin's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "You etched a rune without any aids?" he exclaimed, clearly impressed. "That requires extremely fine control of your mana." Arden detected an undertone of respect in Jorin's voice, mixed with a tinge of professional rivalry.
"Given your skills, I believe you'll find these rune etchers more to your liking," Jorin said, reaching for a box on a lower shelf. He unveiled an even smaller selection of rune etchers, each designed with much finer detail and craftsmanship. Arden instantly noticed that these tools were of a significantly higher quality. The designs were similar, but the execution was more refined, suggesting they were made for more delicate and intricate enchantments.
As Arden picked up one of the finer rune etchers, he felt a difference immediately. The balance was perfect, the weight ideal for detailed work. The runes etched into the metal glowed with a subdued light, indicating a harmonious blend of magical and artisanal prowess.
"These are impressive," Arden remarked, a newfound appreciation in his voice. He could already envision the possibilities these tools offered for his enchantment endeavors.
Jorin beamed, pleased with Arden's reaction. "Those are my finest. Designed for enchanters who demand the utmost precision in their work."
Arden closely inspected the rune etchers, each detail sparking new ideas for his personal projects. "Can I try one out?" he asked.
Jorin's expression shifted to one of thoughtful caution. "Yes, of course, but let's start with one of the larger models," he suggested.
Arden, puzzled, held up one of the finer etchers. "Why? Why not this one?"
Jorin slipped into salesman mode, his gestures becoming more elaborate as he explained. "You see, these are delicate instruments. The inner workings of the tube take a great deal of strain from the mana flow. That’s why it’s encased in wood – to manage that flow. Without it, the raw mana would be too much to handle. And the runes," he continued, pointing at the intricate designs, "you’ve noticed their fine etching, right?"
Arden nodded, prompting Jorin to elaborate. "Yes, the runes lose a bit of their sharpness with each use, but they produce exquisite and lasting work."
Arden looked at Jorin skeptically. "How long does one last?"
"These newer ones can manage 20-25 runes comfortably, while the finer models last for at least 50," Jorin replied.
"And the cost?" Arden inquired.
Jorin hesitated slightly before responding, "Two big silvers for the larger etcher, and five for the finer one. The materials alone cost at least one big silver."
Arden did the mental math. A big silver was equivalent to 10 silvers, and one silver to 100 coppers. Understanding that a city guard made about 450 coppers a month – or 4.5 silvers – he realized a big silver equated to nearly 10 months of a guard's salary.
Arden's curiosity piqued at Jorin's pause. "Five big silvers, that's quite the investment," he remarked, trying to probe a bit further.
Jorin nodded, and then, almost inadvertently, he let slip a revealing detail. "Yes, well, the finer etchers... they were originally my father's design," he confessed, then quickly seemed to catch himself. "I mean, I’ve refined them since, but the core design was his."
This small admission caught Arden's attention. It was a rare misstep from the innkeeper, suggesting that the finer rune etchers might hold more than just monetary value. They were likely a legacy, a piece of history passed down from Jorin's father. This revelation added a layer of depth to the tools, making them more than just instruments for enchantment — they were relics of craftsmanship and familial skill.
"Your father must have been quite the craftsman," Arden said, his voice reflecting his newfound respect for the tools.
Jorin's expression softened for a moment. "He was... he was one of the best." The brief flash of sentiment quickly passed, and Jorin regained his composure. "So, are you interested in purchasing one?"
"I don’t know... they don’t seem that durable," Arden said, feigning uncertainty.
Jorin’s agitation was immediate. “Look, these are the finest etchers in the region. It’s not like we can replicate the originals anymore.”
“The originals?” Arden's interest piqued.
“Yes, the ancient etchers. But they don’t work, so you’re better off with one of mine.”
Arden’s curiosity was now fully aroused. “Could I see one of the originals?”
Jorin hesitated, clearly reluctant, but then seemingly made a decision. “Fine, but you’re buying one of mine,” he grumbled. He disappeared briefly and returned with a small metallic box. Inside lay two etchers – one complete and very similar to Jorin’s father's design, albeit smaller and entirely metallic. The other was split open, revealing an intricate, spiral design on the inner tube and runes etched both on the tube and the inner surface of the etcher. Arden recognized some of the runes instantly.
Jorin snapped the box shut. “Well, what do you say?”
Arden, concealing his eagerness, made an offer. “I’ll give you one gold for one of the originals.”
“They don’t work,” Jorin reiterated, his tone firm.
“I know. Two golds,” Arden countered.
Jorin’s expression shifted, greed flickering in his eyes. Two golds were four times more than he had asked for his father's etchers, and to be honest he did not sell many of them.
“Do you even have two golds?”
“No, but I have 2000 mana,” Arden replied confidently.
Jorin weighed his options, the allure of such a trade evident. “Fine, but you get the one that’s whole. I wouldn’t want you accusing me of selling something broken. It doesn’t work, you understand that, right?”
Arden's theory about the split etcher being more valuable to Jorin was confirmed, but he was content with his choice. “It’s a deal,” he said, shaking Jorin’s hand to seal their agreement.
*****
Ava had been silently observing the transaction between Arden and Jorin, her expression betraying nothing as she fetched the mana reservoirs for payment. Despite her composure, Arden sensed an undercurrent of discontent from her. He was about to address her concerns when they re-entered the common room, where the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Selene stood authoritatively over the Haywoods. The father had regained consciousness, looking bewildered and wary.
"You should hear him out," Selene said to Arden, her voice firm and commanding.
Jorin, who had followed them in, seemed irritated. "Hey, why are they still here? I told you to let them go," he snapped impatiently.
Ignoring Jorin’s outburst, Selene focused on the Haywood father. "Tell Arden what you told me," she urged him.
The father shifted uncomfortably, casting a wary glance at Jorin. "We didn't come to rob him," he began, nodding towards the innkeeper. "I just wanted to be compensated for a defective mana stone he sold me."
Selene gave a subtle nod, encouraging him to elaborate.
"It's defective," the father said, producing a stone cylinder identical to the ones used in the transaction with Arden. "Look at this."
Arden examined the mana reservoir more closely. The display indicated only 10 mana units, though the father had insisted he put in 20. Arden's scrutiny revealed something unusual about the runes etched on the cylindrical stone. A set of obscuring runes had been superimposed over the original etchings, rendering them unreadable. However, the craftsmanship was sloppy. Arden noted that recognizing just one underlying rune would be enough to break through the obscuring layer. A more effective method, he thought, would be to place obscuring runes on each individual etching. That way, even if one rune was deciphered, the overall spell would remain a mystery.
The nature of the underlying runes became evident to Arden. Having encountered many mana reservoirs and their accompanying runes, he knew exactly what to look for. The original spell work on this particular reservoir was quite remarkable in its complexity and efficacy. Yet, it was the alterations to this spell work that caught his attention.
These modifications were amateurish at best. Someone had craftily added a second layer to the enchantment, designed to siphon off and obscure half of the mana stored within. This deceptive alteration was clearly intended to defraud the user, skimming a substantial amount of mana for purposes unknown.
Jorin interjected, his tone defensive. "It's normal to have some leakage."
The father, however, countered with growing frustration, "Yes, but not half of what you put in." His voice held a note of accusation, his eyes fixed on Jorin.
Before the situation could escalate, Arden smoothly intervened, "Ava, let's give the Haywoods one of our smaller reservoirs and transfer some mana into it. I'll keep this one." He turned to the father, seeking his agreement. "Is that okay?" He hoped to have more time to scrutinize the reservoir in a calmer setting.
The father, his expression softening with gratitude, nodded in acceptance and slowly rose from his seat.
Arden, holding the disputed reservoir, felt the weight of both the mana within and the implications of its tampering. He planned to take a close look later when he had more privacy.
With the matter seemingly resolved, he turned to Jorin. "Now, about those rooms and food? We've had quite a day."
Selene's gaze on Arden was inscrutable, a complex mix of emotions crossing her face. After a moment, she let out a sigh and addressed Jorin. "One room for all of us and send up some food."
Jorin, still visibly agitated, nodded and hurried off to make the arrangements. Arden watched him go, a nagging suspicion about the innkeeper’s intentions lingering in his mind.